Being a Water Gypsy

Scene 1
Late summer, warm evening. Interior of stylish second floor west London flat. A man: smartly dressed, white shirt, no tie; and a woman casually dressed. are arguing about their relationship. Argument peaks and he leaves the flat.

He steps out into a tree lined Chiswick street, breaths deep, looks towards the soon to be setting sun and bleeps a locked black Mercedes coupe open, and walks towards it. He looks back at the curtains blowing in the open window of the flat, gets in the car and fires it up.

Continuation of the exterior shot tracks the car until it turns left out of shot at the end of the street, then pans back to the windows. Cut to interior of car dash, hands on wheel, radio on a London station’s late evening traffic report. Through the windscreen there is a view of the Thames heading towards Hammersmith Bridge, Sun is starting to set in rear view mirror. In the centre column of the car is a packet of cigarettes, a rack of CDs, a mobile phone, and a bottle of prescription pills. A hand pulls out a CD, discards the case on the passenger seat and pushes it into the CD player. Canned Heat’s “On The Road Again” plays and the car swings out into heavy traffic on the A4 Talgarth Road heading East. Music volume increases.

Ahh! But that was then and now is now. Where did all that angst go? I am not really sure but go it did. I am happier now than I ever have been, at least for as long as I can accurately remember. I had some happy times in my early youth but they are all faded memories now, faded but nice.

Being a water gypsy has many, many upsides to it, but it can also have its downsides. For example, when you are told to move on, you have to move on. That is what is happening to this particular water gypsy at the moment. I got back to the boat late. Sunday evening. A message was stuck on my door. I had spent a very nice weekend with Special. Early Friday evening I met up with The Wave, a very old mate of mine who now lives in Bristol. He had been awarded an Honorary Doctorate from Brookes University (The Poly as we knew it). I asked him what it was in but he didn’t seem to know. Is it that Honorary Doctorates aren’t actually ‘in’ anything? I dunno. I know that he had been awarded it for his outstanding achievements in charity work across the globe, work that he had done and continues to do for wheelchair users in many of the world’s poorest countries. The Wave deserves that award, much more than many do. Here’s to you Doc!

Special met up with us at the flowing well. She was very taken with the Wave, who she said reminded her of her first boyfriend. I have never met anyone who didn’t like him (with the exception maybe of my ex-wife who appeared not to like anyone – especially me). At about 7:30 the Wave made tracks for London He had a meeting there the next day and was going to stay over with friends and save the trek back to Bristol for the next night. I had something to eat at the Well with Special then we went on to the Chester Arms and saw a pretty good ban whose name escapes me. They did a good selection of covers but not your usual pub fare. I remember the singer being particularly good. The pub, the Chester, I had never been to before, well apart from popping in for a half pint with Special the previous weekend, which is how I had ended up there on Friday. We had seen a flyer for the Friday night band. It is a very cool pub, in my estimation: live music, laid back people (a real mixture of), board games, and good beer. What more can a man out on the town want! For some reason I was drinking JD’s and I was asleep the moment I got home. Nice evening though.

“Can you move your boat NOW, another boat with a mooring needs your space”
That was what the message stuck to the door of my boat read. It was signed by the warden of the moorings. Time to go. Time to move on. It was good there whilst it lasted. I watched the field of what turned out to be corn (probably for animal feed) grow almost to harvest point. I had seen Buggsy the swan and his mate rear nine wonderful cygnets. They are still grey/brown but should be full on white swans in no time now. I had seen the seasons change, the ice thaw, the heat wave of the summer, the torrential rain of August. And now the autumn was knocking on the door again. A late show of sunshine was doing its utmost to keep it at bay a while longer but it is coming just like it always does. Soon the leaves will be changing colour and tumbling from the trees in multitudes. Soon smoke will be rising from every chimney on every boat, the evening will be dark, the skies clear, and once again Betelgeuse (can be pronounced Beetlejuice) will be plain to see in the top left of the constellation of Orion. If you are lucky, and the sky is clear, Beetlejuice may even look a little like orange juice.

I like the autumn; it has always been a time for reflection for me. Also a time for digging your boot heels in for the winter. Winters are lovely things; you just need to know how to ride them out. It has been a good year for me in many ways; even so, some of the worst things that could happen have happened. Losing my mum was tough to deal with, still is. But on the whole it has been a good hot summer. I haven’t really done a great deal but it feels like a worthwhile summer is now passing through autumn and eventually into winter. Whoa! It’s not winter yet, we have a harvest moon to go and all the autumn stuff, but it feels close. Less than a hundred shopping days to Christmas, so they said on the radio the other day.

I am actually looking forward to Christmas this year. Last year it was a bit strange. I spent the day with my mum in the care home she was in. She wasn’t long out of hospital and was very confused by everything. I was still trying to come to terms with her being so ill and being in the home. It wasn’t a good day for either of us. All I had to eat that Christmas day was a pork pie that I bought from a garage when I filled up the Prelude somewhere between Oxford and London. I got back to the boat late Christmas night. I didn’t have anything much in the way of food on board but I did have a case of beers that I scored in Bruges the week before. Ratty John (not the Ratty of Bel Air fame) was alone on his boat too so I invited him along to mine and we polished off the Belgium beers whilst watching a DVD, the Blues Brothers 2000. A strange day it all was. This year, however, I have been invited to Special’s for Christmas. I have offered to shop and cook and I am going to do the best fucking roast that Christmas has ever seen! And I hope it snows! I really am dreaming of a white Christmas!